


Trickster

by Buttons15



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-02-03 02:44:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12739398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buttons15/pseuds/Buttons15
Summary: For as long as Angela has been out of actual hell, there's still time to meet new creatures she didn't know about.An indulgent, fluffy Demon!Angela sommercy story.





	Trickster

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Carrogath](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carrogath/gifts).



On the very night she celebrated the second millennia since she escaped from hell, Angela could say she’d seen quite a lot of magic. From the actual demon hunters she dodged to little witches and more cryptids she could count, she was quite certain she’d seen most, if not all there was to see. Until that very moment, that was.

What the ‘magician’ performed was no magic, she knew right away – merely diverting the public’s attention while she came up with trick after trick. It was perhaps the lack of the arcane that made it so fascinating to watch, that and the fact that the person enacting it was _actually magical_ herself and Angela could tell right away.

At first, she took it as an act of irony – a ‘I can do true magic but I choose to do tricks instead’ kind of act. But as the magician progressed with her show, she began wondering whether the woman was actually aware of her own capacity, whatever that was.

That, too, made Angela keep watching. She’d never met a cryptid quite like that. She couldn’t feel the woman’s desires, which gave away the fact that she was not human. What exactly she _was_ , though, was another matter entirely.

She moved on a bit closer, and the new position allowed her to see better the corner where the street performer worked. On the floor, she spotted it – a sign that said merely ‘Sombra the magister’. She resisted an urge to scoff. 

Angela was polite enough to wait until the show was done to approach her.  She was not polite enough to stop herself from giving the other a jumpscare.

“Sombra, huh?” she tapped the woman’s shoulder.

“Aah!!”

Angela couldn’t hold back a mean smirk. “That presentation was… decent enough, I suppose.”

Sombra turned to her, frowning.  Reading expressions was shockingly difficult to Angela, because she had very little practice on the matter – humans broadcasted their emotions like radio signals, and it was humans she was forced by demonic reasons to make deals with.

“You’re a bit of an asshole, aren’t you?”

It took her a couple seconds to process the message. When she did, she laughed. “Pardon my bluntness. I’d just been hoping you had… actual magic to show me.”

“Come back tomorrow morning, maybe you’ll catch the beginning of the show.” Sombra shrugged. “And if that don’t please you either… well, that’s life.”

“Really? You don’t have a special trick? One that you can only show… at night, or under the full moon, or during the solstice…?”

Sombra held her gaze. “Look, ma’am, I’ll be upfront with you. I have no idea what you’re talking about, and I didn’t see your cash going into my pocket either. So if you’re not willing to pay for my time…”

“Okay, let’s strike a deal.”

“ – then move along cause I have another job to get – huh. Well. _Now_ we’re talking.”

Angela’s eyes twinkled. If there was one thing she knew how to do, it was how to bargain. Sure, she usually had a psych advantage, but she would like to think she could work just as well without it, and she’d negotiated with other supernaturals before.

“What is the thing you want most in the world?”

“I… what? … Right now?” She hesitated. “I have a mighty need for a snack. So maybe you can treat me to something greasy and uh… you’re not hard on the eyes either, so I guess I wouldn’t mind humoring you for a bit. Sounds fair? You pay up and I’ll humor you in… whatever game you’re playing.”

It was almost too easy.

“Deal.”

 

* * *

 

_This is impossible,_ Angela thought as she watched Sombra order her third shot of tequila. She’d figured that alcohol would loosen the woman’s lips but not only was she not talking, she also seemed unaffected by the drinks whatsoever.

As if reading her thoughts – _could she do that? –_ Sombra smiled. “I’m really good at holding my liquor. Tough luck… what did you say your name was again?”

“Angela.”

“Then tough luck, Angela. For once, I’m not the one getting screwed by the odds.” The waiter refilled her glass. Angela wasn’t really worried about the money – when you lived as long as she had and with her kind of power, that came rather easily.

“What about you?” she swirled her own beverage on her cup. “Sombra’s not your real name.”

It wasn’t a question. Sombra shrugged. “Maybe it should be. You come up to me hinting at… occultism business, I’m not telling you my real name. Those have power, you know.” She winked.

_So maybe she’s not as clueless as she likes to make herself seem._

Angela fought back the urge to grin. “Then you’d know it’s not wise to back out on a deal, either. Your food is on me. Now I want to know more about you.”

Sombra scoffed. “One  might wonder at all your sudden interest, you know.” She took a sip of her drink. “I’m not telling you my name. All the rest is game. So ask away.”

“What are you?”

“Straight to the point, I see.” She sighed and broke off eye contact. “Nothing. Nothing officially, anyway. Just a street artist with terrible luck.”

“And unofficially?” Angela leaned forward.

“I sometimes… see things. Investigate things. I got a book, the only thing I got from my _abuela_ , and I dig around for extra information too. If you… if you came to me knowing that, then I may assume you’re one of the… things.”

“Aha.” She pressed her back against the seat. “A hunter, then.”

“Wh- no. No!” Sombra flinched, agitated. “I don’t do that. I don’t hunt things. I don’t _hurt_ things. I just want _to know_.”

Angela arched an eyebrow. “To know?”

“To know what I am. I lost my family to the war and my history with it. I don’t know what I am, and not knowing it is killing me. I go around searching for – for oddities like me and when they don’t straight up try to kill me all they do is shake their heads and go ‘nope, not one of us’.” Sombra downed what was left of her drink. “Something resistant to alcohol, that’s for sure. And if you’re asking, I take it you don’t know either?”

“No. Not exactly, at least.” Angela thought about it for a second. “You’re mixed, though. Part human, part… whatever else. If you were a full cryptid then _you_ would have known that I am too, which you didn’t.”

“Huh.” Sombra paused. “Demon, right? Where we are right now you could be anything from a chupacabra to a selkie, but demons do like their damn deals.”

“Hah. Let’s make a new one, then.”  She thought about her wording with care. “…Sombra. You have me curious. I want to know what you are. So, if you ever figure it out… you’ll tell me.”

“And what I would get from this is…?”

She grinned then, rested her chin on her palm, letting blonde hair fall over her eyes, knowing she made a striking picture. “That’s up to you. Tell me your deepest desires.”

“I want you to be my friend.”

_What_

“Wh- A friend? Really?”

Sombra shrugged. “You saw me. Street performer, chasing the supernatural? I’m not exactly rich in the friend department. I’m lonely.”

Angela blinked. “So, you want… true love then? Or to be popular and famous?”

Sombra tilted her head. “No, I want _you_ to be my _friend_.”

“…why?”

She gave Angela a sly smile. “You look lonely too.”

“That’s…” _Mildly insulting. “_ – ludicrous. Demons don’t feel lonely. Demons don’t feel… anything.”

That was not strictly true, but Angela would be damned if she let someone else know it.

“Then it won’t be a hassle for you to fake it, at least. Besides, if we keep in contact maybe we can figure it out… together! Doesn’t that sound fun?” She had an excited twinkle in her eye that made Angela scoff.

“Not…really. I have mortals to tempt, sins to commit, my eternal life is rather busy.”

“My place, next Friday at ten then?”

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Eleven. I got demon stuff to do until half past ten.”

 

* * *

 

“So why Sombra?” Angela said, absently flipping the page on her book. She was sitting close enough to the fireplace that she had to be careful not to accidentally set it on fire. It was hard – she didn’t burn and the weather around the mortal plane was always so damn cold.

“Huh?”

“Why’d you pick that name?”

“Ah, that.” Sombra, too, had been deeply engrossed on a long text – hers about magical creatures. “I don’t cast a shadow.”

_You don’t –_ Angela frowned, moving her body so that she no longer stood between Sombra and the flame. “Oh.” She tilted her head. “You… really don’t.”

Sombra lifted her palm against the fire, flicking her fingers. The light reaching them was eerily uniform. “Right? I figured I might be some sort of vampire, but no luck with that either. I lack the defining bloodthirst.”

“Have you read Dante?” Angela closed the book on her lap. “Dead souls don’t cast shadows when they’re in purgatory… or so he claims. Don’t know, haven’t been.”

“Why not?”

She shrugged. “Never had a reason to. Left hell in sort of a hurry, too.”

“Do I… want to know why?”

Angela stretched out her arms, wincing when her joints cracked. “Had a terrible ex. Decided it was time for a change in scenery – a two thousand year change in scenery, maybe. Guess I just grew attached to the mortals.”

“And you can just leave and hang around here like that?”

“I can stay for as long as mortals willingly grant me parts of their longevity. Once that runs out, I have to go back and escape again if need be. Not like it’s too hard – Cerberus is actually a big puppy.”

Sombra crossed her legs, dropping her book next to her, and turned to face Angela. “ So you live for as long as you trick people out of their lifespans.”

“Now, _that,”_ Angela sat up straight, slightly irked. “That is such an old and biased way to view us, spread around by… old men in churches. I offer good deals, all right? Fair deals. Give me two years of miserable and unhappy life and I cure your depression, so you can live all the others happy and well. Give me that final year of fighting cancer for the job promotion you need to give your children a better life. How’s that cheating you off?”

“That’s… a way to put it,” Sombra blinked.

“I don’t trick mortals. I offer them good deals. Older demons, these are lazy – they rather steal twenty years off a single person than work hard and earn the twenty from many…clients. But that – that’s bad karma. Those demons are bound to be miserable.”

There was a moment of silence, and then Sombra burst out laughing. Angela arched a single quizzical eyebrow, but let the other enjoy herself. The sound of her laughter wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

“I’m sorry, I just –” Sombra wiped tears from her eyes. “It’s too funny. I can’t believe I just heard scathing social critique from a demon.”

“Excuse me,” Angela interrupted, her tone filled with mock disbelief. “I’m very well educated in the matters of society. Where do you think all your politicians go?”

It made Sombra fall into another fit of giggles. This time, Angela allowed herself a smirk.

“So would you –” Sombra paused, laughed some more, caught her breath. “Would you say –” She coughed, chuckled, tried to regain her composure. “Would-you-said-your-ex-made-you-get-the-hell-out-of-hell?”

Angela threw the book across the room, and it hit Sombra square in the head.

“Ow!”

 

* * *

 

“ – No, really, I have terrible luck,” Sombra mumbled as Angela handed her a pair of scratch cards.

“Nonsense,” She replied, grabbing a coin from her pocket to scratch the pair she’d bought for herself. “Luck isn’t a thing – not in the strictly magical manner, at least.”

“What, so luck doesn’t exist?” the other began scraping the paper with her nails.

“Not in the random sense, it doesn’t,” she muttered. “There’s no luck, only karma. Here, see? I won a pizza.”

“I won a very fat nothing,” Sombra muttered, “And on the other one…” she scratched. “Nothing again.”

Angela blinked. “Seventy five per cent of these cards have prizes on them. Look. I got a pizza _and_ a free ticket to the movies.”

A pause. “I’m not a bad person, I swear. Do you think that maybe I’m paying for like, a previous life of misdeeds?”

She snorted. “That’s not how it works at all. That kind of bad karma gets discounted upon rebirth. What you’re paying for right now is something _terrible_ you did in this life.” Her tone was teasing, but she narrowed her eyes, curious. “Can’t think of anything? C’mon, I’m a demon. I won’t judge.”

There was a moment of silence. “Uh, when I was seven I shoplifted some candy, but that was only once and I got caught right away.”

Angela couldn’t tell if she was telling the truth, but mortals very often had something to hide. She didn’t press the matter – Sombra would tell her when she wanted, or not at all. She shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. You’ll pay it off eventually. Meanwhile, I’ll share you a bit of mine, here –” she handed over one of the cards.

“…oh.” Sombra blinked, and for a split second Angela thought she saw her flush. She grinned with malice. “Wait. This is a buy one, get one free kind of deal.”

“Really.”

Sombra narrowed her eyes. “Yes. Are you trying to imply something with this?”

“Who, me? Never.” Her smile widened. “You should just take a friend.  I know you have _plenty_ of those.”

“Ouch.”  Sombra put her hand over her heart. “I should ask a stranger out just for that jab.”

“Have a blast, see if I care,” Angela shrugged, even though part of her very vocally expressed that she _did_ care.

“Right. Demons have no feelings, only ex-girlfriends.” Angela frowned at that, but Sombra didn’t let her answer. “What do you want to watch anyway.”

This time, she didn’t hesitate. “Cartoons.”

“Cartoons it is.”

 

* * *

 

“Do demons really have no feelings?” Sombra asked, the two absently strolling through the park. Sombra had an ice cream cone in hands. There was some of it smeared on her nose.

“What do you think?”

She halted, and so Angela stopped walking as well. “I think you like to look tougher than you are, when in reality you’re actually nicer than most people I’ve met.”

She scoffed. “I’m… a demon. Haven’t you got the memo? We’re very nice, right up until the point we aren’t.”

“And will that moment ever arrive?”

“It might,” she replied in all honestly, because she knew her own nature. “We _do_ have a pact. Those things get mixed up, you know? Despite popular imagery, when demons make a deal we get really compelled to go through with it. Almost like a hunger.”

“So what you’re saying is you’re not sure if we’re actually friends or if it’s just your… hellish instincts.”

She said it on a neutral tone, but Angela could sense hurt behind it.

_Sense?_

_Not sense_ , she concluded. _I can… put myself in her place._ The notion was mind blowing and she suddenly felt very bad. “I –” she hesitated.

“It’s fine,” Sombra finished her ice cream, crumpling the paper napkin and tossing it on a trash bin. “You’re a good fake friend, at least.”

“I’m not,” She stepped forward, on impulse. Her heart did a strange twitch. “We’re – not,” the distance between them was suddenly too short, but she didn’t mind. She wiped off ice cream from the tip of Sombra’s nose. “It’s not – not a fake bond, I don’t think so.” _I like you._ “You’re… a good friend, Sombra. As real as it gets.”

It was only when she was done talking that it finally dawned on her just how close they were. That Sombra didn’t back away made her hold her breath. “So you _do_ have feelings.”

_Of course I do,_ she thought, but didn’t say.

“Maybe.”

 

* * *

 

“Hey, no, you spilled the salt,” Sombra said, looking over her shoulder. “You gotta throw some over your shoulder now, else it’s bad luck.”

“Not bad luck,” Angela corrected. “It’s actually a very complex rite – a mixture of punishment over the misuse of something expensive, the fact that salt can be used to curse land, and how it’s meant to represent friendship, so spilling it is a sign of –”

“Whatever,” Sombra interrupted, turning to her while pushing the cabinet door closed “Just do the thing, throw it over the shoulder, before – ow, _pendejo!”_   She rubbed her forehead, where the wooden door had bounced right back and hit her. “See what you did there? You’re bringing _me_ your curses.”

_Huh._

Angela frowned. She watched Sombra turn, still mumbling, and get back to doing the dishes. Stealthily as she could, she very carefully bumped the saltshaker.

“ _Puta!”_ Sombra cursed as a loud crash rung through the kitchen. “Slipped right through my fingers, the _hijo de una –”_

Now there was a certain feeling of dread coming to her, and she set the salt up, then dropped it again, watching the grains spill.

Sombra slipped on water and fell on her butt, then turned to her with an indignant glare. _“Conchatumadre,_ Angela, are you messing with the salt? Could you please _not?”_

“I –” She stood abruptly, blinking. “I got to go.”

“What?” Sombra hopped to her feet, almost falling down again. “Why so sudden? I thought you didn’t have  any appointments today. We agreed to hang out.”

“You’re not unlucky, Sombra,” She muttered, grabbing her things and shoving them in her purse. “You’re shielding people. Taking the fall for others. You didn’t _do_ anything to deserve this, you’re just… protecting those who did.”

“Is that… even possible?”

“No!” Angela hissed, throwing her bag on her shoulder. “It’s not. Shouldn’t be.”

“Hey. Hey!” Sombra skidded between her and the door. “What is this even _about?”_

She sighed, closed her eyes. “I know what you are, Sombra.”

She let that sink in for a moment, let the other gape. “Wh – and you won’t tell me?”

Angela felt her resolve crumble. She backed. Sombra moved closer. “I… don’t think I should.”

But Sombra gave her trusting puppy eyes and she knew right then that she was done for, and so she rested her back against a wall and slumped to the ground instead. Sombra still stood in front of her, awkward, as if scared she might just run away.

“Whatever it is, I promise I can take it.”

“Oh, you sure can.” Angela ran her hand over her face and sighed. “But maybe I’m just selfish. Maybe I can’t. Maybe I can’t…” she trailed off.

“What?” Sombra crouched to go eye level with her. “You can’t what, angel?”

The _irony_ left a bitter taste on her mouth. “Can’t stand the thought that you might not want anything to do with me after.”

“…oh.” Sombra let herself fall to a kneeling position, wincing when she hit the ground. “All right then. Listen up. I want to give you something.”

“A deal?”

“Not a deal.” She shook her head. “A gift. You don’t have to tell me anything – don’t have to give me anything in return. Will you take it?”

Their eyes met. “Yes.”

For the longest moment, Sombra didn’t say anything, and Angela wondered if maybe she’d changed her mind.

“Olivia,” She finally said. “Olivia Colomar. That’s my name. I… promised you that I’d let you know if I figured my identity but you did it first and it felt unfair… that – that your friendship would go unrewarded and I guess… I’d – I’d hoped –” she looked away. “Maybe knowing will make you stick around, even when we don’t have a deal anymore. So, whatever I am – I don’t want this to end, either.”

“Olivia,” she repeated, the name feeling alien on her tongue. Sombra distinctly shivered. “… Sombra.” She sighed. “It’s you. You, not me.”  She reached out, gently, touched Sombra’s cheek, turning her face back so they could stare at each other. “You’re the angel, Sombra. I don’t know how, or just how much, but that’s what you are. Someone who takes the pain from others. Someone so bright that not even a shadow is cast.”

“An… Angel.” Sombra blinked, gaze lost in the distance. “And you’re… a demon.”

“Yes. So, I’d understand if you –”

“Does that mean we can’t kiss?”

_What?_

Angela frowned. “I, uh, well, I don’t think I’ve ever come across any mentions of such restrictions – mmmf.”

Sombra’s were shockingly warm against hers, even though she was used to mortals and immortals alike feeling cold when compared to the fires she was used to. When they broke apart, she found herself leaning forward, searching, wanting for more.

“Eager much?” Sombra teased, shrugging off her coat.

“I’m a _demon_ ,” Angela hissed, grabbing her by the collar. “We’re known for our lust, not our patience.”

“What are part-angels known for, besides bad luck? Incredible skills in bed?”

Angela grinned. “I’m damn ready to find out.”

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a birthday gift to [ carrogath](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Carrogath/pseuds/Carrogath) and, I suppose, to Sombra's debut. Happy birthday, nerds!


End file.
